


Best Laid Plans

by Just A Couple Of Death Priests (WalkOnThroughARedParade)



Series: Life Lessons [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Celestial guardian owls are not the best surrogate parents, Droppin knowledge, Gen, Tristan's childhood was not the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkOnThroughARedParade/pseuds/Just%20A%20Couple%20Of%20Death%20Priests
Summary: Yes, the temple was cold, and he hadn’t spoken to another actual person in a while, and okay, Nirn could be kinda...creepy. Sometimes. But he was the closest thing Tris had ever really had to family, and he brought with him a keen sense of purpose.Because They’d chosen Tris. He wasn’t sure for what, yet; but They’d still chosen him.Alternatively;In WhichTristan Is Sent On A Quest





	Best Laid Plans

Tristan panted softly, trying to get his breath back, staring up at the cracks in the roof of the temple and the sunlight pouring through them.

It wasn’t often that they got this much sun in the mountains that sheltered the old temple he lived in. The northern-most provinces of the Verisian Empire were more prone to snow or fog than real sunlight, and the cold clung to the stone of this particular mountain range seemingly always, the chill touch normal enough to him by now. He didn’t mind it, so much - there was a warm spring of water a couple hours walk to the east, a pool tucked away in a cave where he could go to relax and be completely alone if he ever needed it - but when the sun _did_ show its face, bright light spreading across the paving stones he was currently lying atop, it was always nice.

Somewhere back in the direction of the altar, Nirn let out a pleased chuckle, the sound of him refolding his wings echoing in the chamber.

“Very good, Tristan. The Master is pleased with your progress.”

Tris pushed up to sitting, and turned to offer the semi-spectral owl a wide, beaming smile, letting the compliment wash over him.

He didn’t like to think back on life at the orphanage where he had grown up, but he hated any temptation to think of it as _awful_ even more; because it hadn’t been, in the grand scheme of things. Other people lived worse, grew up without homes, went for weeks without food. Yes, he’d been poorly fed, and even more poorly treated, but he had not suffered as much as some others. He was grateful for everything he’d had when he was a child.

That didn’t stop him feeling that they had saved him, though; Nirn and his Master.

Yes, the temple was cold, and he hadn’t spoken to another actual _person_ in a while, and okay, Nirn could be kinda...creepy. Sometimes. But he was the closest thing Tris had ever really had to _family_ , and he brought with him a keen sense of purpose.

Because They’d chosen Tris. He wasn’t sure for what, yet; but They’d still chosen him.

Nirn ruffled his feathers, the huge silver owl watching him with luminous green eyes.

“There is an incantation on the north wall, at the bottom left corner, beneath the passage concerning curses bestowed by the Master. Today’s task is to learn it by heart; I will test you tomorrow.” Tris stared back at Nirn for a moment, intrigued by the lesson he’d been given now he’d finished his general, regular exercise and the practice of his spells, before he pushed to his feet and obediently moved toward the wall in question, behind the altar Nirn was perched atop.

“Is it for something specific?”

The semi-spectral owl made a thoughtful noise, before taking to the air, flying to settle beside Tris on the stone when the blonde dropped to his knees to better read the passage in question.

This one was written in Sylvan. He preferred it, for speaking aloud at least, over the Abyssal that whoever had carved the west wall had favoured.

“There is a temple to the south, which you will eventually be tasked with visiting. You will need to know the incantation when you get there, after you have found the altar.” Tris nodded, accepting the vague answer as good enough while he began to study the incantation more closely; and he reached to touch one of the words, feeling how deeply the curling letters were engraved into the surface of the wall.

Almost every inch of the walls in this temple were _covered_ in writing, in Sylvan and Abyssal and Celestial, detailing thousands of years of history, and half a hundred different spells and curses. There was so much knowledge carved into these walls.

None of it would really prepare him for _leaving_.

“Will you come with me?” He asked quietly, following the curls of a word with his finger, “When I am called to leave, and find the temple. Will you stay with me for the journey? I...I don’t know how good I’ll be with talking to other people.”

He didn’t want to let on how much of a worry it was, his almost inevitable problem with other people. Even when he’d been a child, living with a dozen other children, he’d struggled with getting along with them, been considered strange and too intense both in his friendly manner toward them and how avidly he paid attention to things. Ten years without anyone other than Nirn to speak to was unlikely to have improved the problem.

The owl in question cackled beside him.

“You will be fine. You’re quite charming, little Tristan.”

The words weren’t comforting, but when Tris glanced over at where Nirn had been perched the large owl was missing, a second glance around the temple confirming he was really gone.

Tris swallowed, and turned back to the incantation with a sigh; before a muted warmth flooded his chest, slowly filling him and creeping through his limbs. He shut his eyes tightly, and moved to hold his holy symbol tightly in one hand, and let out a slow, careful breath.

It was not comfort - They didn’t really do comfort - but Tris neither expected nor asked for it from Them. The quiet, creeping sensation of faith in him was enough, the knowledge that in the end, They knew he could complete the task They set him, trusted him to fight through any difficulties his isolation had led to. He didn’t need a hand to hold; not if They were certain of him. Not with Them watching over him.

“I can do it,” he murmured, quiet and firm to himself, and felt the warmth inside him grow until it was almost an unbearable heat; and all the breath left him in a rush, before he turned his attention back to the incantation, refocusing on learning it.

He couldn’t predict what leaving would be like. What challenges he would face.

Perhaps, the same way They had sent Nirn to him when he was sixteen, the same way they had called to him when he was twelve and had left the orphanage, They would send someone else to help him. Perhaps They would guide him in subtler ways.

Perhaps, in the end, he would just have to find the strength in himself, and in the end it would all be its own kind of test. A chance for him to prove he could do more than read and practice in an abandoned temple.

Either way, he would do as he was told. It was the least he could do to repay Them.

And, yes; maybe he would get lucky, and They would send someone to help him while he completed the task They set him. There was always more to Their plans, he was sure; always intricacies he had yet to discover.

~~~

Tris followed the grooves half-hidden by the layers of growth and mulch on the stone floor of the temple with his fingertips, tracing the evidence that the altar had been here, that it had been moved at some point; and half listened to the movement behind him.

After a moment, and listening to the soft, hushed murmurs of conversation behind him, he glanced back over his shoulder; and stilled, staring at the little group for a long moment.

_Are they for me?_

He asked the question internally, listening to the quiet in the back of his mind in anticipation of an answer, fingers touching his holy symbol while his eyes caught on the only boy in the group, dark haired and sharp eyed and watching him like he was a wild animal about to startle or attack.

There was no answer, no warmth or cold of murmuring voice in the back of his head. Nirn did not appear, lightning did not strike.

Tristan’s cheeks went pink, and he turned back to the space the altar had once taken up.

Can _they be for me?_

There was still no real response, no voice or warmth; but vaguely, in the very back of his mind, he felt the slightest twinge of an amusement that was not his.

Tris smiled to himself, and returned to searching the ground.


End file.
